The Other Man
by EchoDeltaNine
Summary: But it came down to a point where his love and her happiness were two different things; until they were equal, they would never be able to be together. Rated for violence and sexual tension.


She had been out with him again. He could tell by the flush of her face and her little smile as she closed the door behind her, pressing her back against the door with a soft sigh. She threw her keys onto the table in the hall and dropped her coat onto the cream loveseat, flicking the lights on as she went.

She froze as she caught sight of him. He sat on the couch across the room, his feet propped on the coffee table, his fingers steepled pensively on his chest, his lips pressed to the tips of his thumbs.

He did not look at her as she swallowed and made her way down the hallway to her bedroom.

She held in a sigh as she strode to the vanity, pulling off her earrings as she went. She knew she would be punished tonight, and so the rest of her jewelry fell onto the counter, clunking with finality.

She could hear him begin to move around in the living room, and methodically removed the pins from her hair, trying to calm herself. With her tresses hanging beautifully around her face she stood, catching sight of herself in the mirror, and then his reflection right behind her.

She had time to think it a pity that he was going to ruin her new dress when a hand knotted in her hair and yanked her head back.

She let out a gasp of pain, moving backwards as he roughly pulled on her hair, arching her whole body into a convex shape. She nearly fell as he released her for a second, but then she was slammed into the wall.

Her breath came in gasps as he worked over her dress, pulling down the zipper in such a violent fashion that the dress ripped along a seam. As he ripped the bronze material from her body, several rhinestones skittered across the wood floor, driving sparks into her blood.

His eyes raked over her body, leaving her feeling filthy before he tangled his hands in her hair again and forced her head back to crush his mouth to hers.

She struggled against him, her fists clutching at his clothes, tearing away buttons on his white silk shirt. Her breath came in pants as she tried to draw enough air to protest, but he gagged her with his tongue, viciously roving his fingers over her, painting her pale skin in petals of black and blue while he tore off her bra and underwear.

She whimpered as his teeth closed over her bottom lip. He took his hands from her arms and worked at his belt, but she stayed his hands, sliding her fingers under his and doing it for him. He moaned against her mouth, inducing a demanding kiss while she unfastened his pants.

They maneuvered to the bed while he continued to devour her lips. Her nails dug brutally into his shoulders as he picked her up and tossed her down. A yelp escaped her mouth when he threw himself over top of her, pinning her down with all of his weight.

He kissed her again savagely, his hands roving over her. Her own fingers forced damage over the sensitive parts of his body, bruising him as easily as he bruised her. He sucked in a pained breath as she drew a nail down the length of his body.

His eyes flashed dangerously and she shied away from him deeper into the coverlet. But there was no escape, and he bent his head towards her, his teeth bared. She gasped when he sunk his teeth into her throat, sucking hard on her skin.

She managed to pant out his name and he returned his mouth to hers, delivering the tangy taste of her blood.

She cried out when he finally entered her, and she arched against his chest, pulling him down to her by his hair.

(¯`v´¯)

(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨ `*~*~*

She stared at herself in the mirror, appalled. Her skin was almost unrecognizable, a collection of dark bruises on her arms and abdomen. A garish bite mark branded her collarbone. Her entire body hurt.

She sighed softly, watching the darkening ring around her eye with distaste before turning her wand on herself to heal her wounds.

(¯`v´¯)

(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨ `*~*~*

She didn't even make it through the front room before he attacked her the next evening. He took her on the floor, leaving bite marks over her throat and another day of aching.

It continued like this. Every day she'd wake up with bruises and a viciously aching body, another of her dresses ripped to shreds.

(¯`v´¯)

(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨ `*~*~*

He could tell that something had changed. When she walked through the door that night, she had her head held high, her dress significantly tighter, her hair up in lavish curls. Her smile was blinding. As she shed her wrap and took off her shoes, the new diamond flashed in the light.

She was surprised to see him, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He had been strangely absent lately; it had been at least a week since the last time he had broken into her house.

She stood slowly, the smile fading from her face, and she forced her eyes to meet his own. The silver roiled like a stormy day, but his face remained blank as he watched her. He never spoke to her, though in that moment she wished that he would.

She swallowed hard, gently inclining her head towards him, before she walked purposefully down the hall to her room. He followed close behind her; a change. He always gave her a few minutes to compose herself.

She turned to speak to him, but the intensity of his gaze stopped the words in her mouth. He looked so incredibly sexy standing there, in his black shirt with the silver buttons that closed at his neck, that she couldn't form words.

An expression she couldn't read passed over his face before he strode forward. She flinched when he raised his hand to gently cup her face. Her eyes widened in slight surprise, but he didn't give her the chance to ponder his actions because he pulled her to him, inducing the sweetest and slowest kiss that they had ever shared.

One hand twined in her hair, gently working the pins loose and letting them fall to the floor. She sighed against his lips as he walked her backwards and softly pinned her to the wall. He did not stop kissing her while he slowly undid the buttons on her blouse.

He slid the champagne-colored material off of her shoulders to reveal creamy skin. He trailed a line of kisses down her face to her throat. Her breath came in short, shallow pants, and her fingers worked frantically at his own shirt. But he stopped her, guiding her hands to move slower, his eyes like quicksilver while he watched her.

She mirrored his actions and undid the buttons on his shirt, pressing her lips to every inch of his chest as it was revealed.

He sighed something akin to her name when he lowered himself over her. His face was bathed in shadow but his flaxen hair glowed in the moonlight.

His kiss was gentle, slow and methodical, his tongue drawing circles in her mouth. She was so used to the desperation that she had no idea how to even respond to him. So she kissed him back as a start. Her fingers stroked through his hair—soft as corn silk—and pulled him closer.

He didn't stop kissing her as he made love to her. Not once did his fingers aim to bruise. Instead they brought such arousal as he lightly traced every contour of her body that she could barely think. She could only feel; she could only feel the hard length of his body, the smooth form of his muscles, the soft texture of his skin.

All she could see was the burning intensity of his bottomless grey eyes, and how his hair fell over his shoulders while he hovered over her.

She could taste salt, sweat, and man; everything he was and everything he had never been able to say to her.

When it was over he lay with his ear pressed to her chest, listening to her rapidly beating heart. He traced pretty patterns on her stomach and he soothed her to sleep.

(¯`v´¯)

(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨ `*~*~*

He never stayed. Every time he was gone before she woke up for work. She expected her bed to be cold in the morning; she wasn't disappointed.

She sighed, biting back emotion, before forcing herself out of bed. She took a cold shower to clear her mind before putting on a pair of nice jeans and a black blouse with a maroon blazer over the top of it. She did her make-up and left her hair down around her face in soft curls.

She eyed her tea pot suspiciously as she entered the kitchen. The burner was on and a curl of steam was already curling from the spout.

She nearly jumped when she saw him at the bar of her counter, his eyes scanning the _Daily Prophet_. His hair was still wet and his eyes were dark when he glanced up at her. She swallowed hard, that emotion creeping up into her throat again, before muttering _good morning_.

She bustled around the kitchen, pulling out two tea cups and her sugar jar. She put toast in the toaster and tried to ignore the feelings churning in her stomach. She poured them both a cup of tea and slid him a piece of toast. He gave her an appreciative look and they sat in silence while they ate.

She lurched to her feet in panic when the clock in the living room rang that it was eight o'clock.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, rushing around her apartment looking for her shoes, purse, and keys. "I'm late for work! I have to go."

He caught her on her second pass through the living room. She protested half-heartedly but quieted at the soft look in his eyes. He cupped her face and gave her a slow kiss.

"I love you, Hermione." She was speechless. It was the first thing he had said to her since their relationship had begun. He drew back slightly, searching her face. When she didn't reply, he raised her left hand to his lips. He kissed the engagement ring on her fourth finger, gave her one last fleeting look, and then turned and left.

Even when she called out his name he did not stop. She was better off without him, anyway; the ring that did not belong to him was proof enough of that. He only had one regret: that he had allowed himself to love her even when they both knew it would never last.

He only paused once, at the front of her apartment building. If she had come bursting through the door and threw herself at him, he would have gladly returned to her apartment. But it came down to a point where his love and her happiness were two different things; until they were equal, they would never be able to be together.

For three minutes he stood, willing for her to come to him. But she didn't. And so, one last time, he swallowed hard, wiped at his eyes, and strode down the street. One last time, he left her.


End file.
